


bargaining

by nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 14:54:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare/pseuds/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare
Summary: When Nezumi slacks off on household chores, Shion thinks of a new incentive (you guessed it, sexual favors) to get him to help with the housework.





	bargaining

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote and posted this fic in January, 2014. 
> 
> I'm reposting some of my old fics from the many accounts I previously deleted over the past few years, so if you're familiar with my fics and want to request that I repost a certain old fave, feel free to message me at my tumblr: http://coolasamackerel.tumblr.com or comment on this post: http://coolasamackerel.tumblr.com/post/160488980276/danielles-nezushifree-fics and I'll be happy to consider reposting it! For both my new readers and my old guys, hope you enjoy the fic!! :D

It started with the dishes.

            Shion washed, and Nezumi dried, an unspoken agreement that really should have been spoken, as maybe then Nezumi would actually have stuck to it.

            “Hey,” Shion objected, reaching out with a sudsy hand to catch his companion’s sleeve.

            “Watch it, you’re getting me wet.”

            “Aren’t you going to dry those?” Shion asked, not bothering to unleash Nezumi.

            “My intentions are pretty clear seeing as I’m walking away,” Nezumi replied, shrugging his sleeve from Shion’s grip.

            Shion narrowed his eyes. “I’m not drying them.”

            “That makes two of us.”

            “Come on, Nezumi. You can’t just leave them there.”

            “Of all the things to obsess over, I never pegged you as a wet dishes guy,” Nezumi observed, eyebrows rising.

            Shion didn’t lift his gaze. It wasn’t about the dishes, and Nezumi surely knew that.

            “Seriously? You’re going to glare at me for not drying two mugs and a pot?”

            “There are bowls and spoons here too.”

            “ _Bowls_ and _spoons_? Well that changes everything, doesn’t it?” Nezumi asked, throwing his hands in the air and chuckling as he turned to walk away again.

            Shion stared after him, sighed, finished washing the dishes, then dried them himself. He put them away quietly, no bangs of cupboard doors or clattering of pots.

            It wasn’t a big deal, after all. Besides, Shion had an idea.

            They usually read before bed, but Shion was exhausted, and after brushing his teeth, slid next to Nezumi beneath their blanket without a book, closing his eyes immediately. He felt Nezumi – who had been immersed in Shakespeare – shift beside him, and peeked through slit eyes as the other man turned off the lamp and lay down beside him.

            Nezumi’s fingertips were warm against Shion’s waist, slipping beneath the hem of his t-shirt, and it was incredibly tempting to simply let the other man’s hand continue to rise over his chest, or better yet, slip under the waistband of his shorts.

            Instead, Shion forced his expression to remain neutral and his eyes closed as he gently pulled Nezumi’s hand away by his wrist.

            “Too tired,” he sighed quietly, to the darkness that coated the ceiling.

            He could feel Nezumi’s lips pressing into the shoulder of his t-shirt, and then the hard edges of his teeth. “That’s fine, Your Majesty,” Nezumi murmured, his breath fire that burned the fabric of his shirt and scarred his skin, “you don’t have to do anything.”

            Nezumi had leaned up, his lips against Shion’s collarbone and rising up Shion’s neck, and it took all of Shion’s willpower to turn away and gently reply, “No, really.”

            The lips on his skin paused for the briefest of moments, then were retracted, replaced with cold air. Shion could feel the calculation of Nezumi’s gaze even though he couldn’t see it, and focused on breathing evenly. After a minute, the other man settled beside him again, his lips once more against his sleeve.

            “Suit yourself. Sweet dreams, Your Majesty.”

            Shion’s smile was swallowed by the dark.

*

The following night, Shion caught Nezumi staring at him as he washed the dishes.

            “Everything okay?” he asked, to the narrowed grey eyes.

            Nezumi didn’t respond, but tilted his head further, something like a cocktail of suspicion and disbelief overtaking his striking features. He still said nothing as he slowly reached out for the dishtowel and began to dry the bowls Shion had washed.

            Shion hid his grin by turning back to the sink. When he finished, he turned off the faucet and watched Nezumi place the last spoon in the drawer. The moment Nezumi placed the dishtowel on the counter, his lips open to provide some no-doubt snarky comment, Shion stepped forward and kissed the open lips before any words could escape them.

            Nezumi leaned into him immediately, on instinct, stepping forward though there was no room, just Shion’s body that he was suddenly pressed into. Shion felt the counter digging against his lower back, raised his arms up and weaved wet and still slightly sudsy fingers into Nezumi’s hair.

            It was Nezumi who pulled away first, though his hands stayed securely clamped on Shion’s waist.

            “Are you serious?” he asked, grey eyes narrowed skeptically.

            “About what?” Shion breathed back, loving the way his breaths bounced off Nezumi’s, loving the way the counter felt digging into his lower back and Nezumi’s fingers felt digging into his waist.

            Nezumi only shook his head, glanced at Shion from the corners of his eyes. Shion returned the look with an innocent smile that he knew Nezumi wouldn’t believe for a second.

            And so began a new sort of tradition.

            It happened next with grocery shopping.

            It was simply too cold outside, but there was no bread and no vegetables and no meat, and someone had to brace the cold. They argued, not with words, but glances that grew from questioning to pleading to demanding to angry to insisting to ignoring to finally resigned, on Shion’s part.

            He sighed, forced himself to sit up on the bed where they’d both been reading and conserving as much warmth as possible, denying the sunrise for as long as they could. In response to Nezumi’s triumphant expression, Shion threw his book at the man’s stomach and relished at his groan.

            “Asshole,” Nezumi muttered, rubbing his ribs as Shion refused to suppress a chuckle. “And don’t forget the potatoes.”

            Shion shoved his feet in his boots and donned his jacket, grabbing Nezumi’s scarf and putting it on pointedly, daring the other man to object. He earned himself a glare, but even Nezumi was not rash enough to risk making Shion change his mind and letting another day go by foodless.

            Shion returned from the market with two bags’ worth of groceries, windburn caressing his cheeks and frostbite threatening his fingers. He burst through the door with a gust of wind and was met by a surprise in the form of his companion actually out of bed.

            The grocery bag was lifted from Shion’s cold hands, which were suddenly full of warmth – Nezumi’s own hands, which had set the groceries to the side and taken Shion’s fingers between them. Nezumi rubbed Shion’s hands wordlessly, grey eyes concerned as they peered at Shion.

            “Your nose is red,” Nezumi commented.

            Shion did nothing but shiver.

            “C’mere,” Nezumi murmured, unleashing Shion’s hands only to press his palms against Shion’s cheeks.

            They were unbearably warm, and Shion closed his eyes at the relief of their caress. He only opened his eyes at the feeling of more warmth, this time spilling against his lips. Chapped lips parted each other, only coming apart when Nezumi pulled Shion back to bed, pushed him against the blankets, began to undress him as if this was a logical cure for cold.

            There must have been something to his methods, as soon Shion was not cold any more.

*

When Nezumi fixed the light in the bathroom, standing on the sink and cursing, Shion cornered him before he could slide off the sink and undid his jeans while Nezumi turned his head sideways and watched in the mirror until his scattered breaths fogged the glass.

            When Shion cleaned the tea-stain from the couch cushions, Nezumi held him against the bookcase and decorated Shion’s skin with stains of his own blush.

            When Nezumi finally stacked the books he’d littered their floor with, he woke the next morning groggy and surprised to find Shion not beside him, but hovering over him under the blanket, already having pulled off his shorts.

            When Shion laundered all of Nezumi’s costumes after the manager declared himself too cheap to wash them himself anymore, Nezumi let the white-haired man choose whatever outfit he wished Nezumi to wear that night, and whatever role he wished Nezumi to play as well for this audience of one.

            This is not to say they didn’t fight anymore. They fought as valiantly as they always had over who would clean the drain clogged with hair – _Nezumi, it’s clearly yours, you can’t even deny this one; Shion, you have hair too; Yes, but it’s not dark and long and look at this mess in our drain does that look white to you, or does sudden colorblindness go hand-in-hand with your new shedding habit?_ – or who would make the soup – _You might as well just do it if you’re going to complain about my soup; It’s not my fault you think soup is only made of carrots; See you’re complaining already and I haven’t even started, just do it yourself; And reward your bad cooking habits? I think not –_ or whose turn it was to bathe the mice – _They’re_ your _mice!; You’re the one who named them; What does that have to do with anything?; I thought you liked bathing them; It’s the principle! I refuse to be taken advantage of; Oh, dear, have I been taking advantage of Your Majesty? How will I sleep tonight with this numbing shame?_

            The arguments were not to be put to rest so easily, but there were a few changes.

            One, notably, being that Nezumi never refused to dry the dishes again, and even sometimes, when he was feeling particularly desirous, insisted on washing them too.

 

THE END


End file.
